Distractions, by Tweeter and Rinne
by Tweeter
Summary: Tony thinks about what happened in the hotel. Spoilers for 3.8 Under Covers. This story is a collaboration between Tweeter and Rinne. ONESHOT THERE IS NO SEQUEL


**Distractions **By Tweeter and Rinne

_**Disclaimer**: We don't own them, they belong to Bellasarius and Paramount. We're just having a little fun. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit is being made._

_**Authors note**: We're bad wabbits. Vewy bad wabbits_.

Tony was sitting on his sofa, an ice pack on his jaw to help keep the swelling down. Ziva, Abby and McGee had driven him home, Abby actually driving, and tried to get him to go to bed, but he protested, wanting to relax and unwind in front of the tv before retiring for the night. So the three fussed over him, propping his legs up and bringing him something to eat and drink. McGee put one of Tony's favorite movies into the DVD player and started it while Ziva tucked an afghan over Tony's lap and Abby fluffed a cushion behind his head. After assuring them that he was fine, and promising that he would sleep soon, the three reluctantly left.

It was all very nice and comforting. They weren't just his co-workers, they were his friends, and it made him feel warm inside. He thought about how close-knit the team had become, especially after Kate's death. He hadn't stopped teasing McGee, who'd probably always be "Probie" to Tony, even when he became Director, but it was good-natured and Tony knew that McGee knew that Tony respected him now. Abby had always been his friend, his "little sister," whose Goth appearance masked a sweet, loving soul and razor-sharp mind. Even Gibbs had let them see the occasional glance of the man beneath the Marine exterior, finally seeming to trust them now with that. And then there was the newest member of the team.

Ziva. How would he describe Ziva David?

He had once called her accent "exotic," but it could just as easily apply to her whole persona. She moved with a cat-like grace, sure of herself, quiet. He supposed she needed to develop stealth in order to survive in her line of work. She radiated an air of confidence, she was smart and good at her work, and she knew it.

Tony found himself thinking about Kate, comparing her to Ziva. That wasn't right, though, the two were completely different people, from different backgrounds, armed with different experiences. Kate was never that confident in her work at NCIS. She had been a Secret Service agent, charged with protecting the President, yet for all that she would make the simplest mistakes in an investigation.

Ziva was an assassin, or at least she worked for that shadowy part of Mossad, the group they never spoke about openly. She had seen things most people her age should never see; but that was the life of an Israeli citizen, especially one who had taken up the cause of defending her people against those who wanted to wipe them off the face of the planet. You never knew if you would be blown up while eating lunch at a streetside cafe.

Ziva had a joi de vivre that comes with knowing that a violent death could come at any time. She relished her femininity, her sensuality. Kate was almost Puritanical, it was so easy to shock or disgust her, and Tony loved pushing her buttons. He couldn't imagine how Kate would have reacted to the play acting that he and Ziva had to perform, if she was in Ziva's place. He knew that Ziva wasn't so easily offended or shocked, and he loved their repartee. As much as he loved Kate, she could sometimes be cruel in her comebacks. It was a side of her that wasn't pretty and he wasn't sure where that came from.

Tony marveled at how easily Ziva fit in when she first joined the team, even after having Gibbs treat her like an annoying child, telling her to watch, but be quiet. She'd asked McGee for advice, and tried to thank him for it and it had surprised Tony that she didn't really get annoyed with them correcting her English. She'd accepted that she wasn't going to fit in right away, which had made things easier.

The team was running smoothly again, the pain of Kate's absence easing under the familiar routine of working cases. Kate would be missed, she was a part of their little family. Ziva was a part of their family now, too. She hadn't replaced Kate, but she was carving out her own niche, going through the hazing good-naturedly, trying to get on Abby's good side, impressing Gibbs and Ducky with her experience.

And then two bodies with fake American passports were brought in, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Tony sighed, unable to pay attention to the movie. It had been an especially trying day, to say the least, and his head ached. He had come very close to dying; **they** had come close to dying. When they were tied to the chairs, back-to-back, he desperately tried to think of a way to get Ziva out of there safely. He couldn't stop Kate from getting killed; he wasn't going to sit there and let that cold-blooded killer carve into Ziva's beautiful face. He had to make him believe that she was the one who knew where the disk was; that she was the only one who could show the no-name assassin the location. If Tony could just get her out of this room and back into theirs, then maybe Gibbs or McGee would be there to help her. At least the Director would see when Ziva returned to the room, and could send help.

Tony let his mind drift, replaying the past two days in his head. The whole thing came down so quickly, it seemed they had only just discovered the identities of the two bodies and their weekend accommodations before he and Ziva were dressing up in expensive clothes and checking in to the hotel under the assassins' names, flashing huge wads of cash around.

That first night in the hotel room was very intense. They weren't sure if they were being watched, so they had to act as if they were passionately in love. Standing in front of the bed, he looked into her eyes as she looked up at him, inviting, teasing. She projected an air of smoldering sensuality that had him reminding himself that this was not real, she was acting, **he** was acting. Their first kiss was passionate, almost desperate, as they peeled each other's clothes off.

Tony tore the bedspread and pillows off the bed and pushed Ziva onto it, taking care not to put all his weight onto her. Simulating sex was probably the most difficult thing he'd ever done. Her moans of pleasure were making it difficult to keep control of himself, her scent making him want to make her moan and cry out for real.

He tried to distract himself by thinking of things that would cool his passion. Gibbs. Yeah, that would do it. Gibbs glaring at him, whacking him on the back of the head. Okay, that was good. What was that? Oh god, Ziva just made the most amazing sound, and she's murmuring something he can't quite hear, but the tone of her voice is heading straight for his groin. Quick, think of something else.

McGee in a G-string. That was something that would scare you off sex for life. Although, he was starting to wonder where a thought like that would come from. No need to over think it Anthony, it was probably just from watching too much porn. Speaking of porn...

Crap, Ziva was just too good.

He hadn't been lying when he had said that it was his knee, but she hadn't been wrong after that. He knew that there was no way that they could 'pretend' that intensely again, he just couldn't do it. So when they were asked to make a distraction, push-ups had seemed to be the best idea. It did work, things were nowhere near as distracting for him.

Hopefully, he'd never be asked to work in that sort of situation again. After all, he was only human.

He sighed, turned off the tv, and shuffled off to bed.


End file.
